


we’ve all got our bad days, mama

by angelcult



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Family Bonding, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Panic Attacks, Past Hospitalization, past mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/angelcult
Summary: Every now and again, Evan is bombarded by thoughts and feelings of the mistakes he’s made. Thankfully, he’s always got his mother.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	we’ve all got our bad days, mama

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rozugold](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rozugold).



> This was written for the Sincerely Us Christmas gift exchange! This was lots of fun to write and a gift for @rozugold on tumblr!

**** Sometimes, the Connor Project will still emerge online. 

Evan will be tagged in a post, he’ll see a link talking about the orchard, and all the feelings of  _ before _ will come rushing in, they’ll come and take over. 

All the memories because even though he didn’t want to,  _ he remembered everything.  _

He hates being alone on days like that, and even after his mother dropped some of her hours, she still wasn’t around as much as Evan thinks he wanted (or maybe he needed). His mother was one of the few people who didn’t completely give up on him after everything that happened.

He hadn’t spoken to Jared and Alana, he’d sent them apologies and explanations but after receiving radio silence in return, he knew he had perhaps broken whatever shaky  _ thing  _ was there between the three of them.

Sometimes, after meeting with Zoe in the orchard (which he still felt he didn’t deserve to see), they would text. A meme here, a good morning there. Cynthia sent him a cake for his birthday, and a get well card after hearing he’d admitted himself to the hospital. The card was weeks late but it was sent with the cake and it still smelled like perfume and sadness and a strange, fragile warmth of someone who was trying.

He made sure she knew about how much he appreciated it. 

Evan thinks she still sees Connor in his face, in the down tilting of his lips, the bags beneath his eyes, the tiredness that weighs at him. 

He allows it, feels like she deserves it.

That’s not now, however,  _ now _ is Evan home alone (always alone) and he can see Connor’s manifestation in the corner of his eye, sitting at his desk chair and spinning in it, whistling a familiar song.

He knows it isn’t  _ really  _ Connor, it’s a manifestation of his guilt, at least that’s what he’d been told by his therapist. 

_ “It’s Bach.” _ Connor told him, seemingly oblivious to his rising panic, the weight in his chest and the sickness in his stomach. 

_ “Nice sound, huh?”  _ Connor felt closer now, he smelled like hospital sterilization and sleeping pills, like static and humming lights.

Evan could not compare his panic to the ocean as it beat against the shore, but rather, to a flash flood, sudden and angry, hellbent on destruction. 

Hellbent on destroying  _ Evan.  _

_ “You’re not looking too good, Evan. What? You see another one of your lies drifting around online? How soon till everyone finds out, huh? Until everyone  _ fucking knows  _ what a liar Evan Hansen is-“ _

“Evan?” Heidi’s voice did not cut through the panic, but it was like a strong gust of air that briefly drowned out the noise, it made Connor disappear.

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Ev?”

He never stayed when he felt like Evan’s mom would see him, as if she  _ could  _ see him, just maybe. 

“Evan, baby, come on.” He felt hands gently guiding him up, from fetal position to sitting up, leaned in just a bit too much to his mother, seeking comfort. Touch was grounding, it allowed him to separate real from not, allowed him to know that his mother was  _ real  _ and Connor was  _ not _ , not that version of him anyway, that lie. 

“Breathe with me.”

Being guided through an attack was usually embarrassing for Evan, but this was his mother, she’d been doing it since the doctors thought he was having asthma attacks. 

“Hey, sweetie, you back with me?” Heidi asked once Evan’s breathing regained rhythm, running a hand up and down his back, her eyes soft with worry, she looked tired.

“Uhm, yes, I’m better, mom.” Evan said softly, eyes on his lap, fingers twining together. He watched his mother’s eyes trail to look at his laptop which he must’ve forgotten to close in his panic. The cause of it, being such a simple email from his father, far too late, wishing him well for the death of his  _ friend. _

If only.

Heidi pursed her lips and closed the laptop, turning to Evan and running her hands up and down his arms, like she was trying to warm him up before he stood and nodded to the door.

“Come on, you want to make some hot chocolate? I think we have that tub of ice cream in the freezer too.” 

Evan smiled to himself, glad that she didn’t force him to speak about it, she knew how sensitive the topic still was to him. It made him grateful for his mother and all the things she did for him.

Trailing behind her, he felt much like a little seven year old again, being promised cookies and ice cream. Not much had changed, besides the food choices. 

“Hey, can you turn on Netflix? You can pick something to watch, sweetie.” Heidi pressed a kiss to his head before he meandered into the kitchen, and Evan followed her with his eyes, chest warm from the kiss.

As they began to grow apart, Evan had forgotten just how much he missed the casual affection from his mother. 

Sitting on the worn couch, he found a movie to watch. Evan was never good at picking movies, always too worried about what the other person would think and what if they didn’t like it? It was too stressful, but he found himself to be too tired from his earlier attack to work up a proper worry, and instead clicked a movie title, he and his mother had watched it many times before.

“What’d you pick, honey?” His mom asked, carrying in the ice cream and two spoons. He wondered if they even had the milk to make hot chocolate with, unsure if hot chocolate and ice cream would be a good idea in the long run.

“I uh, I picked Austin Powers. I know you like it.” 

Heidi smiled at him, but Evan could still see the worry behind it. His mother was always worrying for him, he wished that she didn’t have to worry all the time. 

“We used to watch this all the time when you were younger, you probably  _ shouldn’t  _ have been watching it since you were so young but, you loved all the colors.” 

Evan smiled and blushed as his mother explained. 

He could remember that, piling onto the couch with his mother, the other side of the couch where his father usually sat would be empty by this point in Evan’s life, and they curl up to watch the crude movie together, Evan never really understood it back then, just an amassing of bright colors and beautiful accents but now, as he’s gotten older, he can’t help but wonder.

Did he look for those colors because he, himself, was slowly growing dimmer? His light had been fading for a long time, the loss of his father sped it up until Evan didn’t even emit a glow, he was burnt out embers, Evan was the left behind match that didn’t catch fire for more than a few seconds. 

It had been that way but it was worse when he got to high school, he was just a burnt out husk of the happy child he once was, he was nothing and there was Connor. Connor was a black hole, sucking up all the light in his path until there was nothing left.

He didn’t suck up Evan’s because there was nothing left to take, he didn’t get the  _ chance to _ .

Evan shook his head, trying to physically dislodge his spiraling thoughts as he scooped a spoonful of ice cream and smiled at his mother, lips quirked up into a smile as he leaned into her side. 

She smelled like disinfectant from the hospital and perfume, she smelled like  _ home,  _ she  **was** his home, really.

He was happy, Evan found that often, he was happy and  _ relieved  _ that his mother didn’t leave him behind when everyone else did. 

Had she left, he never would have gotten to see her smile the way she did when they watched the movie together, or even when they just sat in the same room and existed at the same time. 

Existing was easier with his mother, it was easier when she didn’t blame him for the things he did, when she didn’t broadcast them to the world.

Time here, with his mother, it was its own personal heaven, in Evan’s mind. He hoped that if she would get off early tomorrow, they could do it again. 


End file.
